


right where you left me

by SpookyEvie



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Fighting I guess, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Micheal, Mind Controll, Murder attempt, greiving, idk how to do tags help, kinda one sided though, title from right where you left me by taylor swift, tommy still dead here lol the plot moves so fast, well now that i think about it he doesnt have to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:00:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29873619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyEvie/pseuds/SpookyEvie
Summary: Tubbo just wanted to move on. He wanted closure. He wanted to go to sleep in the refuge he had created, safe with the nukes he had built, then return to the hotel he was building with his new best friend and never think about wars of independence or brothers the world had forgotten to care about ever again.Too bad Dream wasn't going to let him have even that.Dream tries to kill Tubbo. Well Ranboo, but same difference.
Relationships: Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 17
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

  
  


The biting chill stung Tubbo’s face and ears, and his breath hovered in the air as little puffs of water vapor. The ocean was serene on a night like this, calmly rising and falling in the pale moonlight. 

The day had long expired, and he was still here. Sitting on a bench looking out to the ocean and wishing the memorial for his dead best friend wasn't sitting in front of him.

He’d been there since earlier that evening when he'd put the whole thing together, deciding an ice plate just beyond Snowchester’s coast would be ideal. He’d placed oak wood and cobblestone, then scattered flowers and small momentos over the memorial, moving more than thinking. That’s how it’d been recently. Moving instead of thinking. Now there was no more moving to do, and this project was done, standing in all it’s tommyinnit glory. He supposed he should be done too.

But here he sat, frozen on an oak wood bench watching the waves in arctic temperatures. And he couldn't figure out why. 

He was ready to move on. He wanted to move on. So why couldn't he? Why did it feel like the wrong and the right thing at the same time?

A part of him, even if he found it somehow twisted, wanted to believe that this was a good thing. A relief, a weight off his shoulders. Maybe this meant the end. The end of the bad things, the end of the suffering and war that incessantly plagued his life. Maybe Tommy’s death was the end of it, the last possible worst thing that could happen. Because the pain in his life had always come hand in hand with Tommy, whether it was his fault or not. 

He was ready for closure. Ready for it to be over and done with. L’manburg was gone. Its founders were gone. And everyday it’s memories were buried further and further down in craters that only seemed to get deeper. But unlike Tommy, he could never bring himself to miss it. 

He gazed up at a L’manburg flag tacked on to the memorial. As he studied the colors he knew he would never be able to see what Tommy saw. He would never remember the warm nights filled with the sound of laughter and Wilbur’s guitar. When a shout of _to the revolution!_ was a good enough excuse to do anything, when he wore his uniform with pride that he was fighting for good. 

Instead he would always remember explosions, war, political disputes and powerlessness. He would remember screams and cries as his home was blown away from beneath his feet. He would remember a colorful explosion and subsequent burns that had been over so quick yet burned so hot that despite hardly remembering them they were sometimes all he could feel.

He would remember accepting to die for someone, then hearing of his quiet death weeks after the loudest crescendo in his story. 

He fiddled with his gloves that were starting to fail to keep out the freezing air, now remembering how he had been willing to die. He was sure he would never get that pleasure. Instead he would always be left in the cold, sitting on a bench made for two all by himself.

He looked up to the sky, the stars staring back down at him. They had never shone as bright in L’manburg. A gust of cold wind sent a chill down his back, reminding him that even his snowchester clothes weren't made for frigid night air.

He wanted to go to sleep in the refuge he had created, safe with the nukes he had built, then return to the hotel he was building with his new best friend and never think about wars of independence or brothers the world had forgotten to care about ever again.

But something kept him glued to that bench, glued right where Tommy had left him. Maybe if he waited long enough, Tommy would meet him there like he always used to. 

He knew it was stupid, but just the thought of getting up left a gross guilty feeling in his stomach and he couldnt tell if it was from moving on too fast or too slow. 

He shook his head, tilting it back to keep tears at bay. He should go inside. The only thing being out here was doing was making him cold and tired. He shook himself to keep awake, knowing he couldn’t fall asleep out here. He would freeze. The later he waited the colder he got, which would only make it harder to row back to show. And god forbid he fell in the water, he would freeze even faster.

Finally he stood up, looking at Tommy’s memorial through the dim lantern light for the last time. Stepping towards it he slowly blew out the candles in each of the lanterns, a silent promise that this was goodbye. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his breathing even. Slowly he turned around, forcing himself to move on.

Immediately he jumped back, eyes widening in fear. A figure stood on the ice behind the bench. A tall and thin figure, one that Tubbo thought he recognized but stood so unnaturally stiff and unmoving he felt unsure in the identification. . 

Tubbo turned his head, trying to fight a rising feeling of unease. 

“Ranboo?” The figure didn’t react, standing in contrast to Ranboo’s normally hunched and clumsy posture. But, looking closer Tubbo could tell it was Ranboo no less, signature colored eyes staring straight into his soul.

Tubbo took a small step back, bumping into the wooden memorial as some of the items tumbled to the ground. Ranboo’s calculating stance failed to falter, and Tubbo didn't recall hearing Ranboo ever approach him. Almost as if he had been watching the entire time.

Tubbo shivered. “Wh- What are you doing here?”

Yet again, he received no reply. Tubbo weighed his options, wondering if he could maneuver around Ranboo to get to his boat. Speaking of, how did Ranboo even get to the ice plate? That’s when he noticed a drop of water trailing down Ranboo’s face. Tubbo's mouth fell open as he noticed that his skin lightly shone in the moonlight, and beginnings of crystals of ice were forming in his hair. 

Before he could even process what that meant, Ranboo was scaling the bench, long legs carrying him across the ice at an alarming speed.

Tubbo vaguely felt the jolt of panic he would feel after looking an endermen in its eye, his gaze landing on his feet and arms coming up in a weak attempt to defend himself. The ice did him no favors as he felt himself begin to lose his footing, while Ranboo glided across as if it was second nature. 

“Ran-” Ranboo had closed the gap between them, and Tubbo was roughly thrown to the ground. He struggled to catch his breath as he looked up at Ranboo whose expression lacked its usual traces of worry and indecisiveness, all characteristics except physical of his lighthearted friend gone. 

Ranboo started to move again, Tubbo’s hands scraping against the ice as he scrambled to stand up. But Ranboo was quicker, and Tubbo was forcefully pushed back down, pinned to the ice.

“Ranboo, Ranboo please it’s me, i’m your friend!” Tubbo’s voice trembled as he pleaded, “Ranboo listen-” 

Ranboo’s fist connected with Tubbo’s jaw, a metallic liquid filling his mouth and plaguing his senses. 

Before he could recover, he realized he was sliding backwards on the ice and found nothing supporting his head. His head lolled back, and suddenly up was down and the sky was made of water and the water was made of stars. 

Realizing what was about to happen, Tubbo grabbing around wildly reaching for anything to grab on to, finding nothing. 

Then Ranboo’s hand was all he could see, and his head was pushed into the freezing water, sending a shock through his system and a dizzying ache through his mind. The ice dug into his back painfully as he fought to stay attached to it. He gasped for air but was met with mouthfuls of water, burning their way to his lungs. 

Panic coursed through his veins as he tried to fight the arms holding him under, finally winning for just long enough to emerge to the air that stabbed at his skin like needles. For what felt like a millisecond he could see Ranboo’s face, still apathetic, still unresponsive to the kicks and thrashes that were Tubbo’s only defence. He choked up water and air alike, the two becoming confusingly intertwined as his body fought for breath. 

Defeat flooded his mind through the numbness and the ceaseless pain of the cold. He knew he was losing. That didn't mean he wasn't going to fight it with all he had. 

Yet again he found Ranboo’s hand covering his face, the image of his uncaring face burned behind his eyes as he felt the abysmally cold water engulf him. He was allowed one small victory, this time he had the foresight to hold his breath. 

As Tubbo began to lose the fight for air, he wondered if this is how he was going to die. Like Tommy, quiet and alone, begging a man who he once saw as a friend for his life. 

His lungs burned for air, sending commands to his brain faster than he could deny them. He sucked in water, feeling his vision become darker as the water mocked him with its uselessness. 

Oh how wrong he'd been. How incredibly, astronomically wrong he’d been. He’d underestimated how many bad things could happen to him. And he’d overestimated his indifference to his own death. Because there was only one though running through his mind as everything went dark. 

_I don't want to die i don't want to die i don't want to die i don't-_


	2. Your hands do bad things when they are untied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This took a little longer than I would have liked, due to the fact I accidently wrote chapter three first so oops. The title is from Fran Bow, I've been playing it and I think the parallels between Fran Bow and Ranboo are very interesting. Anyways i hope you like it!

Ranboo’s skin burned. Every inch of it stung with excruciating pain that blurred his vision and trapped his voice in his throat. The tell tale feeling of water covering every inch of his skin. He swiped at it rapidly, hands frantically wiping at his arms and legs to try to remove the substance to little success. His swipes turned to scratches, fingers curling inwards as he grew more desperate to relieve the stinging pain, but it persisted like a sunburn in hot water. 

Ranboo put his head in his hands, trying to ignore the ache, catching sight of Tubbo out of the corner of his eye. His eyes widened, seeing flashes of a fight, of a panicked face screaming at him from below the surface of dark water. Dread filled his senses as he hurriedly kneeled down to help Tubbo.

Tubbo’s eyes were closed, his face a scary blank. His lips were slightly blue, and droplets of frost were starting to collect in his hair and eyelashes. Ranboo sucked in a breath, giving him a shake. Tubbo’s eyes remained closed, his skin freezing to the touch.

That couldn't be good. That definitely couldn't be good. While Ranboo knew he had experience with cold, the end being a naturally freezing dimension, he had little knowledge of harmful reactions to it. Especially human ones, and ones that had been trapped underwater.

Bile rose up in his throat but he ignored it. He needed to help Tubbo.

Ranboo propped him up in a sitting position, feeling for a heartbeat, for any trace of warmth. He waited silently, swallowing down panic. He needed to keep calm. Whatever he was feeling could wait until he'd fixed what he'd done. 

He took a breath, trying to quiet his breathing and shaking. That when he heard it. Tubbo’s faint heartbeat, proof that blood was still flowing through his body, still bringing oxygen to his brain. Ranboo pulled Tubbo closer to him, trying to preserve the little warmth his body still had.

He was alive. Ranboo felt relief wash over him, briefly resting his head on Tubbo’s hair to catch his breath. He took that moment to fully recognize where he was. Waves gently lapping at the ice plate, reflecting light from the moon. Weirdly enough, it was night. Last Ranboo remembered, it was early afternoon working on the hotel. Last Ranboo remembered…. He turned around looking at the oak wood cross behind him. Tubbo was letting him know he was leaving early to build something for Tommy, and Ranboo was promising to see him tomorrow. Then…. Ranboo stopped, looking around in panic.

 _It was night._ He’d lost _hours_. That hadn’t happened for a long time, not since….. It hadn’t happened in a long time. Had it? 

Ranboo frantically grabbed for his journal, only to find the words bleeding and the pages soaked with water. He cursed at the sight. He would try to recover it later, but for now he had other priorities.

He jumped up, knowing this moment wouldn’t last forever. He had to get Tubbo out of the cold before he actually froze. He picked Tubbo up carefully, setting him in the front of the boat. He then carefully stepped in himself, hugging his knees to his chest as he sat down. He grabbed the oars, rowing back to Snowchester. 

His gaze wavered on the water. Snowchester, he was in Snowchester, of course, he knew that. _How had he known that?_

Being extra careful to not splash any water on the boat, he racked his brain for an explanation. Tried to grasp at any tangible memory that could possibly account for this. All his foggy brain would provide was more questions. Why had he even been in Snowchester? How had he not felt the water until that moment? Why had he done it? Why had he stopped?

He stopped the boat once it reached the snowy shore, the snow crunching beneath his feat as he stepped on it. He scooped Tubbo out of the boat in one brisk movement, carefully transporting him into his house. 

He kicked the door open with his foot, wind whistling through the dark empty house. He walked in hesitantly, deciding to lay Tubbo down on the rundown brown coach Tubbo had moved in one day. He’d always been trying to make this place more homely, and Ranboo supposed he’d succeeded, but not thanks to any couch. 

Ranboo stared down at Tubbo’s sleeping form. He was starting to shiver, no longer accompanied by the warmth Ranboo provided. Tubbo needed blankets, heat, and light. 

Trying his best to keep his mind on the tasks at hand, Ranboo swiftly lit all the torches in the room, illuminating the cabin with a soft orange glow. He then scaled the ladder to the basement, searching through chests for as much coal and as many blankets as he could find. The air was even colder down there, freezing air seeping in from the ground through the chiseled stone walls. 

Returning to the main floor, he was sure to fill the furnace with as much coal as it would hold. It was the most effective way to heat houses in snowy biomes, and one both Ranboo and Tubbo were closely acquainted with. Once the furnace was ablaze with smoldering heat, he glanced back to Tubbo.

He had on one remaining glove, which Ranboo quickly removed due to the fact that it was soaking wet. The other must have come off in the water, now lost at sea. Ranboo pushed the couch as close to the furnace as he thought safe. 

He wrapped the blankets around Tubbo best he could, hoping it would warm him up enough to counteract any damage the cold had done. Ranboo sank to the floor, searching his mind for anything else he could do to help him. His eyes were growing heavy, and a yawn forced its way out his mouth.

“Ranboo?” Ranboo jumped up, nodding at Tubbo in response. 

Tubbo just gave him a confused look, his eyes fluttering open and shut, fighting to stay awake. His voice was soft, clearly not remembering the incident that had just occurred. 

Ranboo avoided eye contact, a pit growing in his stomach. “Yeah Tubbo?”

“Why are you here?” Tubbo practically whispered. 

Ranboo again averted his gaze, making sure to not look Tubbo in the eye. He would remember soon, and Ranboo wanted to preserve these last few moments when he didn't remember Ranboo literally trying to- “Dont… dont worry about it.” 

Luckily Tubbo seemed to accept that, lowering his head before his face became troubled once more. “Micheal,”

“What about Micheal?” Ranboo asked, standing up straighter in alarm. He had nearly forgotten about Micheal, and his mind was already racing with possibilities. Was Micheal ok? Had something happened to him? Was he hurt? Had _he_ done something to Micheal?

“I forgot to put him to bed,” Tubbo muttered.

Ranboo let out a breath of relief. “i'll take care of it, don't worry. Just go back to sleep.” 

Tubbo nodded sleepily, nestling his head on the blankets before closing his eyes once more. 

Ranboo got up slowly, tiptoeing across the floor to not wake him. He climbed the ladder, thinking of the glimpse of the memorial he had seen, combined with the fact that Tubbo had still been out there, in the cold and dark. 

He knew he hadn't taken the news of Tommy’s death very well. He knew it when Tubbo’s first reaction had been indifference, such deep denial that there wasn't even any foreseeable way to get through it. It looked like he’d gotten over that. 

As for Ranboo, he didn't think he was in denial. He knew Tommy was dead. But those whispers of doubt, those inklings of disbelief still floated around in his mind. He felt like the situation hadn’t truly hit him yet, and he tried to fix that all the time.

He supposed his denial wasn’t the utter rejection of fact like Tubbo’s. It was pieces of him that still had hope, still wished for a way out, for a catch that would stop him from having to believe the truth. Pieces that reassured in gentle voices that it was really ok, that everything would be ok. A defensive mechanism built into his own brain, a shield for the pain that came with understanding. Ranboo knew they didn’t speak the truth. He knew he had to squash those pieces every chance he got. All denial did was trade pain meant for now, for happiness to feel later.

Maybe Tubbo wasn’t so different in that sense. Maybe he had pieces of himself that disagreed too. Maybe for him the nice, deceitful ones outnumbered the harsh ones. Maybe for him, to shield from pain was to squash the real ones, the ones that informed and told him the worst was true. To hear their gentle voices and believe them, to banish all thought that even began to mention pain. 

Maybe that was the result of Tubbo’s time here that he had just begun to learn about, the unfortunate product of too much loss and too much pain. An utter rejection of it. An overload that had broken the system, turned it selfish and prioritized safety of the heart over everything else. Even the truth.

Ranboo unlatched the trap door, quickly climbing up and shutting it to make sure Micheal wouldn't fall through.

The room was warm, the soul lanterns and nightlights giving it a playful aura. Mihceal stood near the window, jumping up and down to see outside. 

Ranboo smiled. “Hey Micheal,” Micheal turned immediately, face lighting up at the sight of his father. He ran straight to him, low grunts in piglin replacing any words he might have said. 

Ranboo smiled at him again. “Time for bed buddy,” he said, leaning over to pick him up. He carried him to his bed wordlessly, trying to push unwanted thoughts from his brain. He would never hurt Micheal. 

Settled in his bed, Micheal pointed to one of the portraits on the wall. 

“Yeah, that’s us,” As much as he wanted to stay there forever, Ranboo had to go, and he felt a rising anxiousness telling him he had too. He sighed, looking into Micheal’s eyes, which were so trusting and open Ranboo found it hard to believe he lived in the same world as them. “Good night Micheal, I have to go now,”

Micheal shook his head, somehow seeming to understand. Ranboo sighed, knowing just how hard this was about to be. Before Ranboo realized it, Micheal had reached out his arm, a tiny hand latching around one of Ranboo’s fingers. 

Ranboo felt his heart warm at the surprising gesture. 

Then he saw it. A tiny shred of wool, barely noticeable, caught on one of his nails. One that looked identical to the insulating coat Tubbo wore around Snowchester. Like the one Tubbo had on him today. 

Suddenly it all came rushing back, the attack, the fight, his traitorous hands. 

And Micheal was touching them. His evil hands that had nearly killed Tubbo and would certainly try again. Hands that hurt, hands that strangled and swung with ferocity he would never be able to summon by himself. 

He jerked his hand out of Micheal’s grasp, the implications seemingly written in the air. He was cursed. Cursed with a body that would betray its mind every chance it got, hands that would backstab and kill the things he loved.

They’d hurt Tubbo. They’d tried to _kill_ Tubbo. And there was nothing he could do to stop from doing it again, to stop them from hurting Micheal, nothing he could do to keep them under control. 

They hurt people. He hurt people. Horrified with himself, he stumbled away from Micheal’s bed, nearly tripping on some toys offhandedly scattered on the floor. He fumbled his way down the ladder, stumbling his way out the door.

He had to leave before he would hurt them, he couldn't trust himself with them. He felt nauseated with this understanding of himself, with what he'd done, what he’d caused. He was losing track of the air that was supposed to flow to his lungs and the ground that should have been under his feet, he was falling, falling backwards into the burning snow that seemed to swallow him whole. Before he could process the darkness and wet substance covering his view, the ground grew chains that wrapped themselves around his wrists, tightening like snakes around their prey. He frantically fought against them, kicking and thrashing to no avail.

He looked around as the light died like his resistance to his newfound shackles, slumping over in defeat. 

“Back again so soon?” Ranboo flinched, hesitantly lifting his head to see the person the voice belonged to.

“Dream.” Ranboo returned his gaze to the floor. “Why am i here?” He mustered the energy to ask. “Why are there chains around my wrists?”

“Oh Ranboo, your hands do bad things when they are untied.” Dream paused, letting Ranboo sit with his statement.

“As for the first question, I was wondering the same thing. I wasn't expecting you for a while, not after our plan.” Dream said. He stood calmly, leaning against a wall that looked more and more like obsidian each second Ranboo looked at it. 

“I……” Ranboo let out another defeated sigh of breath, destesting this conversation, destesting this place. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Dream stood up straighter. “What, you don't remember?”

Ranboo shook his head, Dream’s patronizing tone setting a feeling of unease, and to his dismay disappointment. 

Dream sighed emphatically “Of course you don’t. Did you at least do what we agreed to? Is he dead?” 

Ranboo shook his head in disgust. “What no, he's not dead. I wouldn't do that. I would never hurt Tubbo.” 

“Come on Ranboo, you know what they say about denial. I expect more working with you.” He stood impossible still, expressionless mask starring Ranboo down.

“I don’t work with you. I would never work with you, you monster.” Ranboo stated, trying to convey his unwillingness to even talk to Dream through his tone.

Dream scoffed. “A monster! Come on, I would have thought you could be more creative than that. I'm no monster. We all do what we have to do. You should know that just as well as I by now.”

Ranboo let out a breath of dissent. “We all do what we have to do, Dream you killed Tommy! You're a murderer!”

“Hmm I did do that didnt I,” He laughed. “Well, you know what they say, takes one to know one.”

“How could you forget something like that? And I didnt kill him, he’s ok.” Ranboo retorted in a quiet voice.

Dream chuckled. “Oh I didn’t forget. I bet you could though. You could've killed him. You would've. If” He paused, looking around the room. “If it wasn't for the water. You touched the water. It shocked you enough to derail you from your goal.”

Ranboo rubbed his face with his shaky hands, trying to remember how the entire thing had played out. “That’s… I don't think that’s what happened.”

“Tommy’s death was barely my fault. Blame Tommy for being so god damn annoying, blame Sam for keeping him in here in the first place.” 

Ranboo felt a sudden flash of anger at the implication that Tommy was somehow more responsible for his own death than Dream. “No, you're still the one who killed him. You’re still the one who deserves the ultimate blame. You're the one who’s terrorized and hurt, who broke everyone you could on this server. You can’t just pretend and pass the blame to someone else!"

Dream seemed to not be listening. “Better yet, blame yourself! Who do you think set off the tnt that shut down the prison? Don't you _remember_ that, Ranboo? I don't know why it comes to such a shock to you. You've been my right hand man for some time now.”

Ranboo shook his head and pushed away the confirmations, the accusations of his involvement that he suspected but failed to recall. “No, no Dream this is all you. All your fault. Maybe others could have prevented it, could've stopped it but that doesn't mean they’re not still YOUR actions. The reason they call you a monster is because it’s accurate. You are a monster that I want nothing to do with.”

Dream let out another cackle, the words seeming to mean nothing to him. “You may call me a monster but you are merely an extension of me! You did those things too. You hurt Tubbo. YOU held him under the water as he was gasping for breath, you beat him while he was begging for his life. You can blame it one me all you want, but a body does not simply act without the consent of it’s mind.” 

Ranboo brokenly shook his head, trying his hardest to stop his thoughts from agreeing with Dream. “No… that's not true, it can't be true.”

“Remember, those were all still your actions.” Dream repeated tauntingly. 

Ranboo looked up at Dream, out of rebuttals. “Well what am i supposed to do now?” 

Dream shrugged. “I think you already know Ranboo. But it's really up for you to decide. After all, we wouldn’t want a ‘monster’ putting ideas into your head, would we?” Dream laughed once more, walking out of Ranboo’s vision. 

Then suddenly there was light, and snow was falling all around him. It stung as it slowly floated down, collecting on his hair and clothes.

As much as he hated to admit it, Dream was right. He knew what he had to do, and he knew it would be hard. But he had to keep his family safe. 

He sat in the snow a second longer, hearing the whispers of those nice voices, those delicate pieces of himself telling him it would be ok, assuring him that all was well and he could go back into the warm cabin like nothing was ever wrong. 

He wanted to believe them. Maybe Tubbo could've. Because the angry pieces hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to squash them down and ignore them.

But he wasn’t like tubbo. He would always force himself to confront this danger, to listen to the truth, even if it hurt worse than anything else he had ever felt.

He couldn’t be around his family. He couldn’t trust his deceitful hands, his sieve-like mind. And he couldn’t control them either. But he could trap them. He could outsmart them. Always at the cost of himself. 

This family was all he had. And if he had to leave it to keep from losing it, he would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you want, they make me very happy and inspire me to keep writing! Also it looks like there’s two notes idk why it’s supposed to be on the first chapter but idk how to fix it lol:)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! thanks for reading please leave a comment if you want they make me happy :):)


End file.
